“Well, we’ve heard the verdict firsthand. What should we do now?”
Jamie glanced around. The media vans were everywhere, and crowds of people mingled all around, eager to catch a glimpse of the man set free after nearly five years in prison. To approach him now seemed too public for her tastes.
“Not here… not now,” she said with a shake of her head.
Once again, Ian seemed to know exactly what she meant. “Should I slip him a note?”
“Can we do that?”
Ian glanced around. “I’m not sure I could make it over there, but I’ll try.”
“No, let’s just go.”
At that moment, all she wanted was to escape, to go somewhere private where she could relish in her pride. Of all the problems she had faced over the last few years, she knew that for once she had made the right choice. She had helped a man in need. It was quite possibly the greatest triumph of her life.
They were approaching the funnel of bodies waiting to exit near the metal detectors when she heard her name from somewhere behind her. The shout took her off guard, and both she and Ian turned on their heels. A tall, dark head stood above most of the crowd, and Jamie froze with her heart pounding in her throat. It was Andrew and his team making their way through the throng.
“Oh boy,” she muttered.
Ian reached out and took a hold of her arm, steering her away from the line of people around her. They waited as the two men pushed through the last of the remaining onlookers. Andrew was wheeling his grandmother’s wheelchair, and several other people followed behind them, including the remainder of Darren’s team and the woman she saw sitting with his grandmother the day she testified.
Ian shook his head in sympathy. “So much for sneaking out of here… sorry, Jame.”
“I didn’t want anyone to see me cry,” she said.
As surreptitiously as possible she wiped at her eyes, hoping to erase all traces of her unexpected tears. Unfortunately, she only had a moment to compose herself before they were standing in front of her. She greeted Darren first, taking note of his smile that spread from ear to ear.
“Jamie, Ian, did you hear?”
Nodding her head, she smiled tremulously and turned to Andrew. It was the closest she had been to him since that night all those years ago, and she could not help but feel a little intimidated by his sheer size and reputation as a dangerous militant. As though the shock of the verdict still had not sunk in, his eyes were wide and vacant, almost lifeless like before. However, she quickly noticed that he was alert enough for his gaze to sweep her from head to toe. She shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny when she realized with some alarm that she hoped he liked what he saw.
“Congratulations,” she said softly, holding out her hand.
At the sound of her shaky voice, the stunned look in his eye disappeared almost like magic, and he stared down at her hand in amazement. Once again the niggling fear that he resented her for not coming forward sooner crossed her mind. Fearing the worst, her eyes lowered and she was about to drop her hand when he suddenly stepped forward and grasped her shoulders. Pulling her up against his very broad and very hard chest and holding her so tightly she felt her breath leave in a loud rush, Andrew bent over her and engulfed her with his body. Despite having four overprotective brothers, she could not remember a time when she had ever been hugged so tightly. She had forgotten that he was such a big man, taller even than Hayden, and he leaned over her as though she were nothing more than a child.
With her head pressed against the broad expanse of his chest, she could hear the violent pounding of his heart beneath her ear, and full body tremors shook him from head to toe. Like a leaf in a strong breeze, he trembled as every muscle in his body vibrated with shock. His shaking was a stark reminder that he was just a man, a man with feelings, hopes and dreams despite his formidable past, and Jamie’s intimidation eased slightly. She relaxed against him and allowed him to continue to cling to her as though she were a life preserver, her own rampant emotions running wild. After another moment he buried his head in her neck and began rocking slightly. Raising her arms, she awkwardly patted his back in an attempt to be reassuring although her own racing heart made her lightheaded. Knowing that they were exposed and that people were watching, Jamie managed to hold in the rising flood of tears. There was so much she wanted to say, but it was neither the time nor the place.
As though reading her mind, Darren tugged on Andrew’s sleeve gently, almost apologetically. “They’re waiting for you.”
She heard him inhale raggedly against her neck, and his grip on her loosened. Still, he was slow to release her, forcing Ian to loudly clear his throat. The noise seemed to bring Andrew back to the present, and he took a step away from her to focus on her brother. Another head to toe scan followed, with a bemused frown appearing on Andrew’s face. His sharp gaze travelled from brother to sister before he swung his head back toward Darren.
“Okay.”
His voice was still low and calm, but Jamie knew that inside his body was reacting to this new shock with a violence that matched or beat her own. Blinking rapidly, she stood aside so that they could pass. Darren held out his arm to allow her to precede him, but she shook her head. “I’d rather not.”
While Darren nodded in understanding, Andrew was again staring at her. Taking advantage of this final opportunity, she reached for his hand and gripped it tightly. Her voice shook with guilt. “I am so sorry I wasn’t here for you sooner.”
Among the startled gasps of his companions, Andrew immediately flushed. His jaw clenched for a moment, and then he shook his head emphatically. Returning her tight grip, he spoke in his deep voice.
“You apologize to no one, Jamie,” he said tightly. “No one.”
Hot tears spilled over her lashes, and she no longer trusted herself to speak. Nodding quickly, she turned away from his piercing gaze and took a step toward Ian, but Andrew’s grandmother reached out and grasped her free hand.
“Ms. Morton, Andrew and I cannot thank you enough for coming forward,” she said in a deceptively strong voice.
Jamie again nodded, too afraid to speak.
“I’d like to meet up with you when things settle down to thank you properly,” she continued. “Darren, would you set something up for us?”
Darren was distracted but smiled in agreement. “Of course. Now let’s keep moving everyone so we’re not blocking the hallway.”
Ian reached out and put his arm around Jamie’s shoulders, supporting her as the group moved away. When Jamie looked up, she noticed that her brother’s eyes appeared slightly damp as well. One of her brows rose in question as she reached up and pointed meaningfully.
“That was intense,” he said in explanation.
“Definitely,” she agreed.
Jamie watched Andrew being led away with a sense of loss. There was so much she had wanted to say, still wanted to say, and she hoped she would be given the opportunity to do so. Maybe when things settled down, as his grandmother had mentioned. Right now he had other things on his mind. “How do we get out of here?”
“Let’s wait until he’s swarmed. Then we can slip off to the side.”
They did not have to wait long. Though Andrew still moved as though he had been shell-shocked, Darren conducted himself like a true professional and took control of the situation. His group exited into the bright afternoon sunlight, and he immediately grasped Andrew’s hand and held it high in victory. People swarmed, curious onlookers as well as media professionals, and she and Ian watched for a moment until the soft sound of sobbing reached their ears in the now quiet hallway. Ian looked over his shoulder and stiffened. His arm dropped away from her.
“Kit’s family is coming,” he whispered.
“Please, let’s just go,” she said.
While Andrew had obtained his freedom and Jamie was happy for him, the decision obviously had devastated the family of the victim. For five years they had lived with the belief that the man who had b
rutally attacked and murdered their daughter, sibling and friend was in custody. Whether they believed Andrew was innocent or not no longer mattered. All they saw was that the man that had stolen away their daughter was a free man. Jamie could imagine their anger, but she felt fear. Who was the man and where was he now? Had he watched the trial? Was he scared now?
Hurrying away from the group, Ian and Jamie made their way back to the exit, and fortunately for them most of the crowd had dissipated. They slipped out the doors, studiously avoiding the small circle of people crowded around Darren and Andrew.
Someone had set up music outside, and the sound of Israel Kamakawiwo’ole’s “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” was booming in the background. Ian glanced back at Jamie with a brow raised in amusement. “Appropriate for today, huh?”
“I suppose.”
She followed Ian down the steps and out into the parking lot, feeling the weight of Andrew’s stare the entire time. It was the strange heated feeling she remembered from that fateful night so long ago. She turned back one last time, seeing his tall head above all the others. That expressionless stare lingered on her, but instead of frowning like she had the first time they met this time she raised a tentative hand in acknowledgement. Ian drew her attention away before she could see his response, but she wondered if he remembered her scowls from that night, too.
“Keys, please?”
Handing the keys over to her brother, Ian opened the door for her and walked around to the driver’s side. Slipping behind the wheel, he was silent as he started the car and eased from the crowded parking lot. However, once he had pulled out of the complex and onto the open road, now thick with afternoon traffic, he exhaled loudly. “Jame, I have to say that I’m impressed.”
She blinked in surprise. “Impressed? With me?”
“Yes with you. You stuck to your guns and went through with this. You even fought with us about it. Throughout all the doubt you stayed true to yourself…and look… You just got an innocent man his freedom.”
“I think I did what anyone in my position would do,” she said softly.
“Not true. You did what a lot of people wouldn’t. That’s what makes you special.”
“Well, if no one comes forward, they have to live with that for the rest of their lives. I did what was right.”
“You sure did, and I’m damn proud to call you my sister,” he said. He maneuvered onto the highway and eased the car into the carpool lane before speaking again. This time his voice held a touch of wonder. “That guy didn’t know what to do or think.”
She smiled. “He did seem a little stunned.”
“I’m glad I took you. I’m glad I got to see him up close. You were right; he didn’t look like a deviant.”
“Coming from the FBI profiler here,” she said wryly.
“No, that’s Zach,” he said with a chuckle. But Jamie noticed that he had the grace to blush slightly. “All right, I’ll admit that I was a little surprised when he lunged at you like that, but it was all good. I probably would have done the same if I had just gotten out.”
“So nice of you to be so understanding.”
Almost mimicking Hayden’s words, Ian snorted. “Well, you’re my little sister. I have to watch out for you.”
“I think I’ve proven today that I can trust my own judgment.”
A long pause hung over them for a few moments. Finally, Ian nodded his head. “Yes, I guess you have.” His smile deepened as he thought about it. “Yes, you definitely have.”
Chapter 9
Summer 2011
Monsoon season occurs every year in the desert. Most times it starts sometime around the 4th of July and lasts until late-September. When he was growing up, Andrew used to watch the news until the announcement was made that three days of a dew point over 55° had been reached. Even though anyone could feel the increase in humidity and sense that the heat was growing more unbearable, when the announcement was made on the news it made it all the more real.
While he was away, the Weather Service decided to change the long-standing tradition by altering their determination of when it began by giving the monsoon specific beginning and end dates. A few years ago, June 15th was marked as the beginning date and September 20th the end. Clear and simple; they called it, and they had years of experience to back their decision. It tended to take the fun out predicting the monsoon, but it also was just a guide. The monsoon came when the monsoon wanted.
This monsoon season was Andrew’s favorite by far. Instead of fearing the dust storms and humidity that made everything in his steamy cell hot and muddy, he lifted his face to the sky and breathed deep of the moist air, loving the musky smell of the rain slapping the dry desert and the dark clouds forming over the mountains to the east. He was a free man, and he could stand outside in the whipping dust that stung his eyes without repercussions now. He could listen to the insects fanning their wings to cool off and watch the dark clouds approach from the open air. He did that now. Happily, eagerly, and most of all thankfully.
“Bring it on,” he whispered at the sky.
This was his third storm since he had been released, and he had stood outside in the rain during every one of them.
It washed away the prison stink that he felt still clung to his skin.
It washed away the shame and depression he had felt during the past years of hell.
It cleansed his soul.
One thing it did not do, though, was erase the anxiety.
His first night home he had discussed his control methods with his grandmother, and she had recommended he return to the VA to go on medication. He discarded the suggestion. Even though Darren was working hard to have his record expunged and benefits reinstated, he was still reluctant to admit to anyone his weakness.
When he told her of his reluctance, she suggested the next best thing. “Then get out there and help me care for those horses.”
That was something he would consider, if not for himself then for his grandmother. The woman had done more than her fair share on his behalf. He owed her everything.
His fear of medication outweighed his desire to be human. Instead of running to the doctor, he forced himself to stand outside and listen to the cracking thunder that threatened to send him diving for cover. Even after all this time the loud sounds still made him jump, but he was fighting it. Re-acclimation, he told himself, took time, and he was confident that with time he could master it on his own.
That’s what he hoped for anyway.
A low, deep rumble crossed the sky from one end of Superstition Mountain to the other. The wind had picked up and sent small pockets of dust blowing toward his face. He squinted and ducked his head, but he continued his journey to the barn where he had turned out three of the boarders earlier. He wanted to get them back to their stalls before the storm came in and left the pen too muddy to traverse. Horses loved to roll in the mud following a good storm, and he was in no mood to have to brush them out after.
Filling their evening feed prior to collecting them, Andrew expected that their exceptional hearing would encourage them to return to the barn rather than him having to search them out. Reaching for the orange stick used to protect his personal space, Andrew opened the gate wide and waited while his horse extended his long neck and nuzzled his shoulder from his stall. Glancing at the old quarter horse, Andrew reached out and scratched his ears affectionately. “You’ve had your dinner,” he admonished lightly.
As if he understood, Bruno ducked his head back in his stall and turned until his rump faced Andrew. He pawed at his empty feed bucket stubbornly.
“Not a chance,” Andrew muttered.
Right on cue, the three boarders trotted toward him. He held the stick as an extension of his arm ready in case he was rushed or they became gummy toward one another, but they came in peacefully albeit quickly. He closed and secured the gate before turning to the stalls. Of course the sullen, blue roan gelding, Idaho, had entered Cash’s stall and was burying his face in the old bay m
are’s feed. Andrew hastily intervened. Cash was on special supplements, unlike the spoiled quarter horse.
Of course, that was what he got for being lazy and not bringing them in one at a time. He guided the hungry gelding out of the stall and shooed him into his own, using his carrot stick to encourage Cash to do the same. The third boarder, a big palomino named Rojo, was already settled, so Andrew secured his gate just as another rumble of thunder shook the siding on the barn.
At the same time, Tabasco, a thoroughbred he had helped deliver before his incarceration, kicked at his stall and tossed his head. The outburst drew Andrew’s gaze. He walked down the aisle to the unworked gelding. “So you don’t like the rain, huh?”
The big chestnut continued tossing his head. Andrew reached out and caught him, applying light pressure between his ears until his head dropped.
“I guess now is as good a time as any,” he said as he scratched the handsome gelding’s ears in reward. “Let’s go play a bit. We’ll fight these storms together.”
Prior to being arrested, Andrew was convinced that he was going to make Tabasco a fine horse. Unfortunately, he had been taken away before ever having the opportunity to train the magnificent animal. In his absence, his grandmother had hired on some help to care for the animals, but no one had taken the time to work Tabasco. In fact, the only reason he allowed a halter was because he had grown up with one. To say that his manners were rudimentary was giving him almost too much credit. Andrew was disappointed but determined to fix things while he was staying with his grandmother. At this point in time, he would be satisfied with teaching Tabasco his basic ground skills and then selling him to someone who would have the time to work him to his full potential. Besides, the more money he got out of him the faster he would be free of his almost insurmountable debts.
He deftly tied the halter on and grasped the lead in one hand, using his other to guide the excited gelding from his pen. The wind was still bustling, and Tabasco danced along beside him.
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